


More Than That

by ScarlettLetter8



Category: Marvel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8687743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettLetter8/pseuds/ScarlettLetter8
Summary: Your relationship with your partner was an unusual one.  He didn't usually speak much, but neither did you; you knew each other solely by looks exchanged in battle and skills that had been used to save the other's life time and time again.  You two traded favors like they were candy.You didn't know how you had known each other Before.  Some instinct told you that you'd know him forever, that you hadn't just met him when you were first brought in.It was more than that.  It had to be.





	1. The Man on the Bridge

Your partner never was one for niceties, so you weren't surprised when he engaged in the firefight. However, you were annoyed that he didn't deal with the one on the bridge.  
"Вы двое заботиться о том, что один. Я возьму один там (You two take care of that one. I'll take the one up there.)," you said, directing two of the officers to the woman. You started towards the bridge; your heart was pounding. You summoned your powers, and you rose, alighting softly behind the man.  
He held an automatic, covering his partner as he moved closer to yours. You hummed and took a step forward. "Hello, soldier."  
He started at your words, swiftly turning. Now the muzzle was pointed at you. "Who are you?"  
"No one of great importance." Your accent was thick, and you could tell he was struggling with your words. "But I am here to kill you."  
A police squad car exploded below you, and you grinned. At that exact moment, the man you were fighting fired off a few shots, meant to kill.  
They stopped short and fell harmlessly to the ground with a swift movement of one of your hands. The other held a knife.  
You lunged, aiming for his stomach. He knocked it aside, and a blade of his own tried to find its way to your neck.  
He wasn't wasting any time to go for the kill. You grinned, jabbing at his chest.  
There was a gunshot down below. Your smirk grew.  
You craned your neck, trying to see if your partner had, in fact, made a kill.  
That was when his jab found your stomach.  
His knife entered your side diagonally, and you crumbled. It caught your leg, cutting deep.  
Your head was bleeding from contact with the pavement. You didn't fight back when he zip-tied your hands; however, when he did sprout metal wings from his backpack, you knew it was time to do something.  
So you kicked him in the back of the knee. He fumbled, and your hands clasped his knife. You drove it towards his thigh as electricity crackled along its length.  
He let out a yell, stumbling away.  
That didn't stop him from jumping off the bridge.  
You let your head fall back to the asphalt and cut the tie. After a few seconds you stood woozily, hearing the approaching backup.  
Your partner was waiting there.

Your injuries were healing quickly thanks to the Hydra doctors as you watched them fix your partner's arm. He seemed off. He didn't usually punch the technician and send him flying.  
You jumped to your feet, ignoring the discomfort in your leg, and rushed towards him. You stopped when the director entered the room. He dismissed you with a single look, and you bowed your head and left, going back towards your cryogenic freezer.  
Your relationship with your partner was an unusual one. He didn't usually speak much, but neither did you; you knew each other solely by looks exchanged in battle and skills that had been used to save the other's life time and time again. You two traded favors like they were candy.  
You didn't know how you had known each other Before. Some instinct told you that you'd know him forever, that you hadn't just met him when you were first brought in.  
It was more than that. It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any mistakes; that includes my not-very-impressive Google translate skills, and any writing or grammar errors. It also means that if I don't add on to this for months on end that I'm just bad at life-ing.  
> Feel free to comment if you see errors!  
> Thanks!


	2. Give.

You weren't put back in the freezer, which made you happy. Instead, you and your partner were kept conscious, healing, waiting for your next chance to kill your target.  
By waiting, you mean training.  
That was all the two of you ever did when you were awake. If you weren't on a mission, you trained with your partner: fighting against him; fighting as a team.  
Currently, you were fighting against him, and you were a hair away from getting your ass beat.  
He had a knife; you didn't know where it had come from, but it had appeared roughly at the time that you had started using your powers. You hadn't made a conscious decision to- you knew that it irritated him when you cheated. A little added air resistance here, a small zap of electricity to affect his arm there.  
But really, his arm was an unfair advantage. You ducked the whirring metal fist, sending the heel of your hand at his stomach. He knocked it aside, hitting at your face. You dodged, leaping above him, grabbing him around the neck, and pulling him down with you. You held him in a headlock, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Give."  
"Never."  
You squeezed. "Give!"  
His arm found your shirt, grabbing on and throwing you out from under him. You rolled upon landing, ending in an upright position. You snarled.  
"Agent 4772."  
You snapped from the fighting stance and into a salute at your boss. "Sir."  
Your partner rose as well, standing stiffly. "Sir."  
"I wish to speak to you. Come with me."  
"Yes, sir."  
You followed behind him, leaving the sparring room. "You have a new mission."  
"Mr. Pierce?"  
"Your partner will be fulfilling your past assignment. You have been reassigned. You will be protecting me during the launch and afterwards."  
You paused. You wanted to ask if you'd be relocated back to being your partner, but you stayed silent, keeping your face stiff. But he'd been reading your face for years, and he knew when something was wrong. "Problem, 4772?"  
"No, sir."  
He narrowed his eyes. "Do not lie to me."  
"Will I be rejoining my partner, sir?"  
"Why does it matter, 4772?"  
"It does not, sir!"  
Your body had become rigid. "Correct. However," he said sternly. "I will answer. You will not." Something emotional broke inside of you, but you kept that to yourself. "Dismissed."  
Your partner was waiting there. You didn't say anything, simply letting your fist fly at his face.  
This new news did not matter as you tossed electricity around.  
He smiled, and you focused on that. Because you couldn't think about being separated from him.


	3. Missing Piece

You kept your hands respectfully behind your back, trying to stay away from the light streaming through the windows. It still felt like daggers thrust into your eyes, even though it had been almost a day since you'd been wiped.  
You'd heard the doctors telling an agent that it was too early for you to be re-purposed, that you needed to rest at least a day. You despised that thought- you weren't useless. If Alexander Pierce needed you, you were ready. No matter what.  
Pierce was talking to the ambassadors, gesturing to his screen as he sipped the champagne in his glass. They were nodding along, looking interested. You didn't understand why you were here.  
After a few more minutes of watching, you gave in to impulse, despite knowing that it wasn't a good idea, and closed your eyes.  
That, of course, was when the intercom came on.  
"Attention all S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. This is Steve Rogers." Your eyes shot open, instantaneously seeking Pierce for instructions. He was glaring at the ceiling speakers, as if he could make them go away.  
You realized you most likely could, but something stopped you from taking immediate action. Something about this man's voice was familiar, and- and some malicious little voice told you this would be the perfect vengeance.  
"Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down."  
Pierce made eye contact and jerked his head towards the door. It was an order- stop this. Now.  
You nodded once and almost sprinted from the room. The voice was making you anxious, stirring feelings that you didn't like: rebellion, hatred. Feelings that would get you punished if anyone knew.  
"S.H.I.E.L.D is not what we thought it was. It's been taken over by H.Y.D.R.A. Alexander Pierce is their leader."  
You didn't doubt that he was regretting sending you out now, but it wasn't the time for that. You wouldn't turn back; that would be to disobey a direct order. You almost smirked, but you didn't know why. Something made you feel like it was ironic. That it was something you'd been wishing for, waiting to happen for a very long time.  
"I don't know how many more. But I know they're in the building. They could be standing right next to you."  
You hated the sound of this person's voice with every part of your soul.  
It gave you a headache, crippling you. You faltered, stumbling to the wall for guidance.  
You couldn't remember where you were going. What you were doing. What were you doing?  
"And it won't end there. If you launch those helicarriers today, H.Y.D.R.A. will be able to kill anyone in their way."  
It was echoing, looming. It filled you with dread for what would happen when they found out what you thought about it.  
A sharp pain, like the blade of a knife, went through your forehead, directly in between your eyes.  
You let out a scream, crumbling to the floor.  
Volts of electricity shot from you, and the voice stopped. Your vision blinked, and shot to black.

When you awoke, there were wet tracks on your face, and you felt a knot of terror in your chest.  
The lights were out. You stood, refusing to let your knees wobble like they wanted to, and strode to the stairwell, determined that you would make this feeling of helplessness go away. You would kill Steve Rogers, if it was the last thing you did.  
That would give back the missing piece.


	4. Captain America: A Surprised National Symbol

It took six S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to take you down, even while you didn't use your powers.  
You knew better than to show them your hand and you could fight them just fine without using electricity or air.  
Your arm had a cut at the shoulder, but other than that you were unscathed.  
Two agents held your arms, despite them being handcuffed. Obviously, they didn't trust you. You didn't blame them. You didn't trust you either.  
You didn't feel like fighting them. It wasn't worth it. You'd never agreed with H.Y.D.R.A., and something held you back. Whatever had made you so willing to work before was gone, and you had no motivation to die. Not for H.Y.D.R.A. For him, yes.  
Him?  
You didn't know.  
Your consideration of who this "him" was was cut short by a yell. "Agent! Agent 4772! Enact evasion technique 23!"  
You snorted and stared up at your handler coolly. He was being escorted into the growing line of captured agents. His face resembled a beet when you didn't respond. The agent who was holding him tugged on his arm, but he fought, staying in your face. "That was an order, agent!"  
You smiled and uttered your first words since you'd been wiped. "I don't take orders from you."  
His jaw dropped and he was pulled onward.  
You stared straight ahead. That was when you saw him.  
Captain America. Steve Rogers.  
Your insane desire for his blood had long passed, and you'd come to your senses when you'd been captured. However, you still studied him. He limped, arching his back as if he'd recently exerted himself. In his hands he held a mask.  
It captured your attention. You knew it. It was more familiar to you than your own face. Your thoughts felt like they were swimming through molasses. How did you know the mask?  
It rushed back to you. It was his mask. Your partner's.  
Where was he?  
What had he done to your partner?  
You let out a guttural scream, tearing away from the two agents. You forced the air pressure to expand suddenly inside a single link of the cuffs, breaking them. Then you tackled a surprised national symbol.  
"Where is he?" you screamed at him, hitting the blond's face. "Where is my partner? What did you do to him?"  
Electricity was flowing from you like an outlet, shocking the man. You knew that that was dangerous. You could kill him. But you couldn't make it stop; you were screaming, out of control.  
You'd be wiped for this, you knew. But it didn't matter- you were fighting for him.  
You were pulled off of him, and your distressed screams turned to sobs.  
You crumbled to the ground, a burned-out fuse.  
At some point, you'd taken your partner's mask from the man, and you clutched it like a life line.  
The blond stared at you, wiping blood off his face.  
"(Y/N)?"


	5. The Green Man

Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, was anxious. Not for himself, but for his friend. Steve had been pacing for days.  
"Is she all right?" he asked once again. Tony nodded. "She's been stabilized. We altered the design to Banner's prison. She's in there now."  
"Why?" Rogers demanded.  
Stark raised an eyebrow. "Did you not see Banner almost turn green?" When the blond didn't answer, he continued. "It's no longer going to, you know, implode, or, drop out of the sky, or whatever it was that it used to do. Now it'll just pump a sedative into the air. Bruce's design- I didn't look at the schematics, but it shouldn't kill her."  
"Don't joke about that!" He ran his hand through his hair. "Does she really not…?"  
"The only thing she seems to know or care about is her mysterious 'partner.'"  
"Bucky," he breathed. He rubbed his forehead before looking up again. "Can I see her?"  
"I wouldn't be able to stop you if I wanted. Come on." He stopped outside the door, holding the handle and turning back to look at his friend. "Before we go in, you need to know some things.  
"First, she's volatile. She snaps if anyone approaches her, and she's shocked anyone who actually went in with her. Second, we did have her outside of this. She attacked Banner and electrocuted him. She almost woke up the green man. It wasn't pretty."  
Steve nodded and barged into the lab recklessly, stopping when he saw you.  
You were sitting in the middle of the glass case. You didn't respond when he entered the room and stopped in front of the door, just on the other side of a window.  
You looked sleep-deprived, your hair was stringy and your face was pale. Your eyes were wide, and they almost bulged from your face, making you look even more unhealthy then you were.  
"(Y/N)?"  
You glanced up, then looked away. You were quiet for a few more minutes before you spoke.  
"How do I know you?"  
"I'm one of your best friends," he said. If it weren't for your heightened senses, you wouldn't have heard him. Even then, you almost missed it.  
"One of. Who was the other?"  
"No one," he said quickly, catching the glance that Banner had thrown him across the room.  
"My partner," you said thoughtfully. Your voice was emotionless as you said it. You glanced down at the mask, then looked back up to this strange man. "Do you know where he is?"  
He gasped and looked away. "No. No I don't. Please… Please excuse me."  
He hurried away, swiping at his eyes. It hurt him to see his best friend reduced to this- a little girl, who just wanted a familiar face as her world crumbled around her.  
You looked back down at the mask before throwing it as hard as you could across your little prison. Then you buried your face in your hands.  
Banner glanced up from across the lab and slowly approached the walkway.   
You looked up, meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry."  
"For what?" he asked comfortingly. "You haven't done anything."  
"I saw what happened to you. I don't understand it, but… but I did hurt you and I almost caused something… bad."  
"It doesn't matter. It happens all the time, and you were scared. You didn't know what you were doing."  
"I've hurt enough people."  
He cocked his head to one side. "You remember?" He reached for a notebook. "Tell me."  
So you told him everything that kept you from sleeping: the screams you'd caused; the blood. You talked about the only thing that kept you sane.  
You spoke more words to this stranger than you had in the last sixty years.


	6. Slick Limousine

"Sir, who is she?"  
"Is it true that she's an agent of H.Y.D.R.A.?"  
"Do you believe she can be trusted?"  
Tony Stark waved at the crowd of reporters and they quieted. "Her name is (Y/N) (L/N). She's Steve Rogers' best friend. Yes, she was a H.Y.D.R.A. agent. However, she was held against her will and literally brainwashed until she didn't know anything else. I like her very much, and I do trust her."  
"Is it true that she attacked a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent recently?"  
"No," he said firmly. "She attacked a H.Y.D.R.A. agent who would, otherwise, have killed her, and, most likely, every scientist in the room. He is currently in custody."  
"Sir, do you really believe that she is stable enough to be trusted in New York?"  
"Yes. Over the past month, we've been working with her and she's improved. It's the belief of, not only myself, but also Mr. Banner, that the best thing for her is semi-normal contact with society.”  
“There are rumors that she can’t remember anything from her time in H.Y.D.R.A. Are these true?”  
“I’m afraid so. It is undetermined whether or not she’s repressing those memories. This is another reason why we’d like her here; it will be easier to monitor her in Stark Tower.”  
There was another barrage of questions, but the crowd fell quiet when the limousine, sleek and silent, pulled in front of the tower. The limousine had been Tony's idea- so had the press conference. You, personally, couldn't care less about what the public thought of you. You wouldn't have cared if you were transported through the streets of New York City in a straightjacket, your ride, a tank.  
But, you thought as you slid from the leather seats into the sunlight, it was nice to see the city. Nice to be in a car that was peaceful, your only escort the driver and Dr. Banner, neither of whom said a word.  
The sun pricked at your eyes as they locked on Tony. He held out a hand. You two had gone over this: you were to smile politely, and continue for a few minutes, while they talked. If you wanted to speak, he'd made it very clear, that you should. But he wouldn't force you. Then you could go inside, and you could sleep. Or train. Settle in.  
So that was what you did.  
You smiled at Tony, walking the ten feet casually, as if he was an old friend. Rogers was in the crowd somewhere, on the lookout for your partner; there had been some concern he might make an appearance at this. Natasha, if you had to guess, was in one of the buildings across the street, with a rifle. Just in case. That was where you'd be, anyway.  
Something you'd learned about Tony Stark very quickly was his ability to talk. On and on. Forever, even.   
The pricks of light became jabs as you stood, the sun slowly becoming hotter, and Tony's speech about "redemption" becoming more and more monotonous. You headache became worse. You ignored it.  
Bruce did not.  
"Rate it," he muttered, sidling up to you just as you spotted Rogers.  
"Four and a half," you muttered back, eyes skidding up the building as Rogers looked away from Tony to you.  
The doctor nodded, imperceptibly, and stepped towards Tony. "She needs to go." He said it low enough that you wouldn't have heard it without your heightened senses.  
"All right."  
You turned and walked inside, jabbing the close door button with an index finger.


	7. Sight of Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (N/N): nickname

The punching bag was solid beneath your hands. It was a blessing to you-it had been so long since you'd been able to fight, and not hurt anyone.  
But warmups were over now.  
"Are you ready?" You nodded, exhaling carefully and turning to face the brunette. "Then let's go." Tony paused, adjusting his stance. "Take it easy on me, (N/N). I'm really not built for this."  
You almost cracked a smile, raising your hands in defense.  
He lunged, throwing a halfhearted punch, which you very easily dodged. You jabbed with your elbow, almost as enthusiastic as him. But you still fell into your familiar routine, eyes raking him for weapons, trying to find any advantages he may have.   
Your gaze caught on his watch as you two spun in what could be described as a deadly, unenthusiastic dance. You suspected that, despite the rules he had set, it was one of his suits. It was on his right wrist. You took the first chance you got to destroy it.  
He punched, and, instead of dodging, like you had been, you caught his arm. He tried to jerk away, and he was surprised by your strength. One-handed, you tugged it from its place and tossed it towards his bag.  
"Damn," he muttered. "Thought it might last a little longer than thirty seconds in."  
You snorted, letting him hit you a few times to make him feel better.   
Then you leaped, spinning around his body and dragging him to the ground. He landed supine, and you were half-straddling his waist, one leg extended, the other's knee digging into his chest. You had his hands pinned above his head, your weight distributed evenly.   
You let yourself smirk down at him.  
"I love it when you take charge," he joked as you stood offering him a hand. You rolled your eyes, turning to face the small crowd you'd been purposely ignoring. Bruce, Natasha, and Rogers, all stood, watching, from beside the doorway.  
They noticed the stance you took: your arms were behind your back, feet spread, reminiscent of the stance soldiers took when at ease.  
Natasha spoke first, a combination of sarcastic and joking. "Obviously, you need to actually want take an interest in winning. I think it was pretty obvious that you didn't care about the outcome."   
You made an expression that suggested you agreed.  
"I think if we could work with your observation it could be very helpful," Bruce stated, rubbing his hands together. He was more than excited to see his favorite (and only) subject somewhere other than in confinement. "The fact that you picked up on Tony's cheating shows that."  
"Fight me." Rogers' words were abrupt, blurted. "You all want to see what she can do, don't put her against Tony. Pit her against another serum. Pit her against me."  
"I'm not fighting you."  
"Why, are you scared?" he tainted, and you knew that he was trying to get under your skin, trying to make you do what he wanted.  
"Steve." Tony's voice was reproachful, warning. "Not now."  
"I'm not scared of getting hurt," you sneered. "I'm scared of killing you."  
"That's not something you should worry about. Just save your own skin; it's what you always do, isn't it?"  
You sucked on your teeth before spitting, "Well then, let's go. Get your skinny ass over here."  
He took a step forward, and you launched yourself, hitting him under the chin with enough force that his head jerked up. Both his fists were flying, but your own were going just as fast, and there was blood, and screams, and pleas, and you were in a head lock, gasping for breath, but you forced your head backwards, hitting his nose with a crack, and someone was protesting, cries for mercy, and you broke away from his grasp, gasping and clutching your head. Electricity was cracking, but Bruce didn't care; he stepped forward, grabbing your forearms and pulling your hands from your eyes, taking the voltage. You forced yourself to pull it together, reining yourself in and swallowing the energy.  
"Rate it."  
You couldn't speak, holding up six fingers as pain seared behind your eyes.  
There were hands on your elbows, and you could hear Tony's voice. It was ripe with concern  
"Let's get her to her room. Come on, (Y/N). One foot in front of the other- Stay over there." Bruce's voice turned harsh, and you couldn't help but be scared that he'd turn green.  
"Not now, Bruce. I'll take care of him later, just help me now." Tony's tone was warning, and you were practically dragged from the training room.

When you woke up you were immediately aware of the fact that there was someone by your desk. You could hear their breathing and sense their presence. And you had a suspicion as to who it was.  
"You gonna pretend to be asleep all day?"  
"No sir." You opened your eyes and sat up, making eye contact with Fury. He was exactly where you thought he was, leaning on the surface. You were vaguely glad that you'd kept the top clean, because you didn't doubt that he'd look through anything he could.  
You hated him, because he knew. He knew everything you'd done. You didn't even know specifics, just the fact that you'd killed more people than you could count, but him, he knew. Natasha knew too, but it was different with her; she didn't hold it against you.   
"What do you need?"  
"Has Stark told you about the investigation?" he asked, ignoring your own question.  
You nodded.   
"There's talk of taking you to court, you know."  
Once again, you nodded.  
"I have a proposition for you. It'll make it go away."  
"I'm not taking the easy way out, sir. I'll face up for what I did, all right? I'm not a coward, and I know what I did."  
"No you don't," he said pointedly. "All you can tell anyone is that you killed people. That's all you've ever said. For all we know, you had nothing to do with it."  
"And they were keeping me for what, my sense of humor?" you asked sarcastically. "I'm not taking your deal. And if anyone asks me to join the Avengers again I'm leaving."  
"You get massive headaches at the sight of blood. We both know you're not going anywhere. If you don't want to take my offer, fine. I'm here to give you this."  
He dropped an envelope on your desk.  
"It's a summons to appear in front of a panel next week. For the inquiry. They have some questions for you. Think about that, and remember what I said: you join my team, and I can make this go away in the blink of an eye."  
"I'll take whatever they decide, sir."  
Warmups were over, training was over, and it was time for you to face what you'd done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the wait, guys. I've been working on other things, and I completely forgot.


End file.
